The official mission magazine of the Seventh-day Adventist® Church VOLUME 2 • NUMBER 3

4

10

14

28

30

The Paparazzi

Impostor
Finding
My

Voice

Lessons From a

Prostitute
Adventures of a

Reluctant Missionary
The Throwaway

Baby

Digital Issue Online at Mission360Mag.org

Editorial
E

very Sunday afternoon like
clockwork, my husband, Bob,
and I take our copy of the Washington Post to a nearby café.
We leisurely take turns reading the
various sections of the newspaper,
making small comments now and
then. But if there is an article one of us
finds especially interesting, we point
it out to the other. When we leave, we
stack the newspaper neatly and leave
it for someone else to read.
I certainly respect that people like
to read news and stories in their own
ways, but I can’t resist pointing out
that this issue of Mission 360° is special! This issue celebrates the joyful
lives of real women as missionaries,
wives, trailblazers, and sisters. They
are volunteers and friends, young and
old, who surprise
themselves by
what they

can do. Best of
all, they make us
laugh and learn
along with them
a s t h ey s h a r e
their stories.
Here are some
quick recommendations for you:
If you like to cook,
check out the Malaka family recipes
from Egypt on page 18.
If you want a good chuckle, read about Sharlene Hayton’s experience as a paparazzi
impostor on page 4.
If you think you could learn anything from a prostitute, see what
Amy learned on page 14.
There is so much more to tell you,
but I must not encroach on your reading time. But please do two things:
1
2

If you enjoy this magazine, please
pass it on or tell someone about it.
Join us in thanks and appreciation
for the women who are doing their
best to reach others for Jesus.

Thank you for helping to support
missionaries and frontline workers in
big cities and rural areas. We invite
you to give an additional gift, if you
can, through your church or by using
the enclosed envelope. Thank you
for helping to make things happen!

Nancy Kyte
Marketing
Director,
Office of Adventist
Mission

2

Features
THE OFFICIAL MISSION MAGAZINE OF THE SEVENTH-DAY ADVENTIST® CHURCH

President Joyce Banda greets the hospital staff during
the red-carpet arrival.

potholes in the road from town were
being filled. The “Malamulo Mission”
sign was getting a fresh coat of paint,
and small cracks in the sidewalks
were being repaired. What is going
on? I wondered.
“President Joyce Banda is coming
to Malamulo,” announced my husband,
Ryan, who works at the hospital as a
surgeon. “She’s coming on Tuesday
for a tour.”
4

Wow, the
president of
Malawi! I
thought. I pictured our three sons,
Benson, Hudson, and Jett,
and myself standing outside our
gate, waving as her convoy passed by.
Jason Blanchard, our chief executive officer, asked if I could take pictures for the hospital’s records. “Sure,”
I replied casually, envisioning myself

Jason introduced me to the press
agents for the president. One of the
men handed me a badge with the
word “Press” on it. “With this pass,
you may take pictures and move
around freely,” he said. I looked at
Jason who just raised his eyebrows
and smirked.
I felt like a paparazzi impostor as
I pinned the badge to my dress. I hovered around the man who had handed
it to me, but he urged me away. “You

Benson (6), Hudson (4), and Jett (1) eagerly await the
president.

The presidential convoy arrives.

snapping a few shots from a distance.
On Tuesday morning I donned a
dress and walked to the hospital with
our sons. “Will we see army guys?”
Benson asked. Just as he finished his
sentence, a truck of soldiers whizzed
by. “Cool,” he muttered.
We had just joined the crowd awaiting Her Excellency’s arrival when my
phone rang. It was Jason.“Shar, meet me
at the stairs. I have a press pass for you.”

may move around,” he reiterated. I
took the hint. For the next hour and
a half before Her Excellency arrived,
I snapped pictures, trying to capture
the mood as dozens of dignitaries
greeted each other with handshakes
and smiles.
Suddenly we heard sirens. The
delegation appointed to greet the
president took their places on the red
carpet. It was “go time!”

The convoy entered the gate and
the press began jostling for position. I
realized that if I was going to get the
pictures Jason wanted, I too had to vie
for position—elbow for elbow, nudge
for nudge. I leaned on the back of an
experienced photographer, willing
my camera into position, hoping to
obtain at least one focused picture
of the important moments.
As President Banda exited her
vehicle, a slew of security agents descended on the red carpet, ushering
her forward. Bodyguards seemed to
drop out of the sky. The movement
was rapid. It seemed like only seconds
passed and the red-carpet entrance
was over. I apologized to the photographer in front of me for practically
riding on his back down the carpet.
The head of the president’s protocol office controlled the press and the
speed of the event. I learned quickly
to watch him for cues.
As the president entered the hospital, the doctors and nurses standing
in line in the general ward snapped to
attention. A choir sang, and the voices

Sharlene Hayton, honorary press for Malawi.

echoed down the corridor as the president approached. I fired away with
my camera, but the lighting was bad.
My little built-in flash was struggling
to keep up with the external mega
flashes of my competitors’ cameras.
Keep shooting, I told myself as the
press pushed from every side, hoisting
cameras in front of my face. Don’t
flub it up! Don’t miss the handshakes!
I moved the camera up and down,

trying to get the best lighting. I edged
forward, pressing the button with
vigor. The introductions concluded
and the party proceeded down the
ward with haste.
A burly bodyguard crossed in front
of me, blocking my path into the wardroom where my husband, Ryan, was
presenting patients to the president.
I can’t believe this! I thought. I’m not
even in the room. With a racing heart, I
tapped the bodyguard on the shoulder
and presented my press badge. “Er,
excuse me, sir,” I started. “I’d like to get
into the room.” He moved to the side,
and I squeezed by, relieved to have
an opportunity to photograph the
president’s first patient visit of the day.
At the maternity ward, I secured
a favorable position for shooting and
started to breathe a little easier. I even
enjoyed watching the president interact with the patients and staff—she
often shared a joke or a smile with
those on the ward. Listening to her
speak, I forgot momentarily that I was
“Press.” Suddenly, I realized the party
was getting ready to move, and the

The president shares a laugh with missionary doctor
Cristy Shank and a patient who just delivered her sixth
child and wants to talk about family planning.

head of protocol was staring at me,
trying to speak with his steely eyes. I
popped out into the hallway, falling
behind the main press again.
It was difficult to shoot photos in
the crowd, but I managed to position
myself well enough to get shots of
the main events. I just got used to
being part of the official press when
the head of protocol swooped over
and snatched the badge off my dress.

Among many
other things, your
weekly mission offerings
and world budget offerings
help support more than
455 missionary families
around the world.
Thank you!
I’ve done
something
wrong! I thought. But then I realized
that we’d come to the end of the tour.
I wasn’t allowed to walk with the
party to the president’s car, so I sauntered behind the soldiers and poked
my camera out of one of the arches
and waved to Her Excellency as her
Land Cruiser rolled away.
In a glorious whirlwind, my day as
part of the official press for Malawi
was over. I was back to being a stayat-home mom of three boys—back

Dr. Ryan Hayton and the president discuss Malamulo
Hospital’s plan to train surgeons.

to being a housewife, a hostess, and
a t-shirt-and-jean-wearing nobody.
I decided that is the way I like it.
Sharlene Hayton grew up in
Australia, married an American, and
serves at Malamulo Hospital in Malawi,
supporting the medical work of her
husband and raising three sons.

5

INDIA

A

Small
SEED

A small group of believers
worships in an Indian city
nestled in the foothills of the
Himalayas. Over the years, itâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s
grown to include people from
many different backgrounds.

The members love to sing, pray, and fellowship.
They may not have many material possessions, but once they get
to know Jesus, they know they have everything they need.

6

The church plant exists thanks to several Global Mission pioneers,
including a woman named Asha.

Asha’s favorite thing is to introduce people to Jesus. She visits
them in their homes, where they feel comfortable asking questions
about the Bible.

Asha is able to answer these questions confidently because she
studies her Bible a lot. She has no formal training or degree—just
a strong desire to share God’s message with her neighbors.

Asha’s children are also interested in reaching out to the
community, and they often join her in giving Bible studies. As
they approach one home that they regularly visit, the owner greets
them with a big smile. He’s eager to learn more about the Bible.

Asha shares stories that the man has never heard before. A simple
lesson, a song, and a prayer are enough to make a huge impact. He
has decided to be baptized.

Global Mission pioneers are local people who
dedicate at least one year to starting new churches
in areas or among people groups where there is
little or no Adventist presence. Many are volunteers,
living on small stipends. They work in challenging
conditions and some are the only Seventh-day
Adventists in an area of more than one million
people. To learn more about their unique ministry,
please visit www.global-mission.org.

Global Mission pioneers have
planted seeds in this part of India that
have grown into a healthy group of
believers. Without their efforts and your
faithful support, many people in this
community would still not know the
love of Jesus. Thank you!

Ricky Oliveras
Office of Adventist Mission

7

UKRAINE

Hungry

Bible

for a

T

atiana* was desp e r a te . W i t h h e r
husband gone, she
wasn’t sure how she
and her three-year-old son,
Vladimir, would survive. The
little money she earned at a
local café was barely enough
to feed them.
After a while, life became too
heavy for Tatiana, and seeing no
way out, she made plans to send
Vladimir to an orphanage and commit suicide.
The appointed day arrived, but as Tatiana
looked at her precious son, she
couldn’t bear
to part with
him. Throwing her arms
around the
boy, she

8

sobbed for several minutes, distraught
and yet relieved.
For several years mother and son
continued to hold on to life, but by
the time Vladimir was 12, Tatiana’s
depression had returned, and along
with it more thoughts of suicide.
It was during this time that a
friend invited Tatiana to attend a musical concert celebrating the birth
of Christ. The concert was held at a
Seventh-day Adventist church, and
although she didn’t know anything
about Jesus, Tatiana decided to go.
That evening, Tatiana heard
the story of Jesus for the first time.
Through the beautiful songs and narration, her heart was touched as she
discovered a Savior who truly cared
about her and had a wonderful plan
for her life.
Returning home, Tatiana’s face lit
up as she explained to Vladimir what
she had learned that night. “There is a
God who loves us,” she told him. “A God
who wants us to live and be happy.”
Soon, Vladimir noticed a change in
his mother’s appearance and outlook.
There was a look of hope in her eyes.
They both longed to learn more about
this wonderful God and had heard
that it would be good for them to
read the Bible—but neither knew
where to find this special book.
Then one day, Tatiana returned
home with the news that she had
found where to purchase a Bible.
Sitting down with Vladimir, she

Your mission and world budget offerings help to
make mission work possible. Thank you!
Four ways to give:
1 During Sabbath School
2 Secure online: Giving.Adventist.Mission.org
3 In North America, mark a tithe envelope
“World Budget” at your local church
4 Call 800-648-5824

explained that they could buy the Bible, but it would cost her two week’s
wages. There would be no money
left for food.
“Would you be willing to go for
two weeks without food in order to
buy the Bible?” Tatiana asked her son.
Without hesitation Vladimir responded, “Yes. Let’s get the Bible.”
Overjoyed, Tatiana bought the precious book. Day by day, as they read
the Bible, Tatiana and Vladimir began
noticing differences in their lives.
They were happier and experienced
less stress. Tatiana became less bitter
and more patient. She began regularly
attending a Seventh-day Adventist
church, although Vladimir was not
quite ready to join her.
As the weeks went by, Tatiana
noticed her son becoming more
distant and sad. Word had spread

around the neighborhood that Tatiana and Vladimir were joining a cult,
and suddenly all of Vladimir’s friends
turned against him. Attempting to
fit in, he tried smoking, but nothing
seemed to help.
One day the Adventist pastor invited Tatiana and Vladimir to stay
with his family for a while, and they
accepted. During family worship, the
pastor prayed for Vladimir, but a war
was raging in his heart—to accept
Jesus as his Savior or to be accepted
by his old friends.
During this time, Tatiana studied the Bible with the pastor, and
she often shared with Vladimir
the exciting things she was
learning.
Tatiana’s faith continued
growing, and she was baptized. She became a new

woman, full of love and hope. She
continually prayed for her son, and one
year later her prayers were answered.
“Seeing the change in my mother,
learning the Bible truths she shared
with me, and her prayers and those
of the pastor had a big effect on me,”
said Vladimir. “The following year I
was baptized.”
Some years later, Tatiana went
to sleep in Jesus, with the assurance
of one day soon seeing her Savior
face-to-face. Her son, Vladimir, is now
studying theology at the Adventist
seminary in Bucha, Ukraine.
* Not her real name.

Gina Wahlen
Office of Adventist Mission

Left to right: Vladimir still treasures his Bible as he studies to become a pastor at the
Adventist seminary in Ukraine. The Adventist church in Vinnytsia, Ukraine. Photo by George
Chernilevsky. Vladimir often went to school hungry, but he
tried not to let the other children know that he
had no food.

9

M YA N M A R

Finding
My

Voice

I

was shocked when the Adventist
Then one day, a man
World Radio director asked me to
named Tun Bo came to Pyin Gyi.
start coming to the studio,” Hla Yee
He worked for a timber company, and
says. She was working as a housesoon the entire village took notice of
keeper in the Upper Myanmar Mission
his industrious style.
about Jesus. Although the villagers
office and had only a fourth-grade
Bo was a Seventh-day Adventist
liked his hard work, they disapproved
education. What could the director
who had previously worked as a Globof his religion. Their minds were made
possibly have in mind? she wondered.
al Mission pioneer.* During his service,
up that all Shan people were Buddhist,
Yee is one of the very few Advenhe was able to plant a church in a
and they were not about to change
tist church members from the Shan
town called Kywenadauk, not far from
their beliefs.
ethnic group in Myanmar. Her life
Yee’s village. Today, that congregation
As it turns out, Yee had noticed
began in a small village named Pyin
has more than 100 members. In Pyin
more than Bo’s work style: she also
Gyi, located 30 miles from Mandalay.
Gyi, Bo spent time getting to know
appreciated his personality. Luckily,
Like the rest of the people in the vilmany people, and he frequently talked
her feelings were returned, and they
lage, her parents and six siblings were
fell in love. “But,” she recalls, “he would
traditional Buddhists. Yee received her
talk to me more about Jesus’ love than
primary education at the monastic
about his own love for me. I was
school in the village. Studies
interested in both the message
were offered only for four
and the man!” Still, it took her
levels, however, so when
five years to accept Jesus.
is
her parents couldn’t send
W h e n Yee a n d B o
the official global radio ministry
her for further schoolmarried, Yee’s parents
ing in another town,
refused to associate
of the Seventh-day Adventist Church.
she started working
with her. She faced
Its mission is to broadcast the Adventist
with them on their
criticism from her
farm.
relatives and friends
hope in Christ to the unreached people
Out of more
and disapproval
groups of the world in their own languages.
than 135 ethnic
from the villagers.
groups in Myanmar,
Before long, two
AWR’s programs can be heard in nearly 100
the Shan are the
of her grandparents
languages through AM/FM and shortwave
largest group. Their
died. To add to her
traditional beliefs
pain, many people
radio, on demand, and on podcasts at
and traditional culbelieved that Yee’s
awr.org and iTunes. Thank you for
ture are very strong,
grandparents were afand for many decades
fected by her marriage
supporting AWR through your
Christian missionaries
to a Christian. Sadly, more
mission and world budget
were unable to share Jesus’
sorrow awaited her. When
love with them.
Yee became pregnant, she

Adventist
World Radio (AWR)

offerings.

10

Far left: Hla Yee’s radio programs in the Shan language are
generating response from listeners in Myanmar. Left: Hla
Yee, left, with her daughters, May Thwe Oo, right, and Nan
Huai, front. Below: Hla Yee has treasured this picture of
her family since her husband, Tun Bo, passed away.

and Bo eagerly looked forward to starting a family of
their own. But their baby was
born prematurely and did not
survive.
The tragedy sparked even
more gossip among the villagers, who could see with
their own eyes the dangers
that came from marrying a
Christian. But Yee says, “My
husband’s parents were Adventists, and they encouraged
me by sharing examples in
the Bible of others who suffered. It helped me a lot.”
Yee and Bo eventually had
two daughters, and it seemed
that their troubles were finally behind them. But then the
unthinkable happened: Yee’s precious
husband died. She says simply, “I was
left with an empty heart and an empty
life.”
As a young widow with two daughters and few job skills, Yee was grateful when the mission office offered
her a job as a housekeeper. She didn’t
think about the future much—until she
received the call from Thang Pau, the
AWR studio director in Pyin Oo Lwin.
Church leaders had wanted to
start producing programs in the Shan
language for some time and were

and amazed the church leaders with
her rapid progress.
Yee was given a laptop computer on which she now records, edits,
and mixes programs on her own. She
translates scripts from Burmese into
Shan and records children’s stories,
health segments, Bible readings, Ellen White books, sermons, and more.
These half-hour programs are broadcast seven days a week. Bible correspondence lessons are offered,
but they are only available in
Burmese.
“I want to continue working
for AWR until we can get a new
speaker who can do much better
than me,” she says. She hopes
that her elder daughter, who is
currently in the tenth grade at
Ayeyarwaddy Adventist Seminary, can begin working on the
programs. “She is good in music,
language, and computers.”
“My faith in Jesus has grown
more and more through the experiences I have had in my life,” Yee
says. “I have gone through pain,
bitterness, and struggles. But I see
now that I am saved by God’s grace.
I cannot do anything on my own.
The Holy Spirit transforms my lips
and my voice and speaks to the
Shan people about Jesus. I hope
my voice will benefit my people
for eternal life.”
looking to recruit a program speaker
who had technical, language, and
theological skills. But they were unable to find anyone suitable.
Then God led them to Hla Yee. She
says, “When Thang Pau asked me to
start working in AWR, I was surprised
and really touched in my heart to
accept.” She began taking computer
classes and concentrated fiercely for
six months to learn word processing and other applications. Although
she was scared in the beginning, she
picked up the skills remarkably quickly

* A Global Mission pioneer is a church planter who
works in an area or among a people group where
there is little or no Adventist presence. For more
information, please see page 7.

Shelley Nolan Freesland is the
communication director for Adventist
World Radio at the Seventh-day Adventist
Church world headquarters.
Special thanks to Maung Maung Myo Chan, communication and public affairs director, Myanmar
Union Mission.

11

PHILIPPINES

View
From
Thelma’s Rocking Chair
The

R
2

ainey, doing therapy on Thelma
will be a great opportunity for
you. Isn’t that what you want
to do for a career?”
Dr. Mitzelfelt peered at me expectantly through his bifocals. I sighed
and thought of Thelma with her dull
brown eyes. Her left side had been
paralyzed from a couple of strokes,
and she compensated for this loss by
using a crutch and dragging around
her foot. She didn’t smile or talk
much, and her muscles
were stiff and curled
from lack of
use.

“All right, Dr. Mitzelfelt,” I replied. “I
can try to do some therapy with her. Or
at least visit and talk with her. Maybe
that will lift her spirits.”
I had been in the Philippines as
a volunteer for five months and had
been praying for extra ways to help
out in the seaside village of Pagudpud.
So the next day I set out for Thelma’s
house, stopping to ask for directions
along the way. Finally, I found her
family’s home—two houses, really,
filled with uncles and aunts and many
young cousins.
Those first few days with Thelma
were awkward and difficult. While she
watched TV, I would sit beside her on
the bench in her house and unclench
her gnarled fingers, straighten out
her stiff elbow, and bend and unbend
her wrist.
Thelma’s muscles were so stiff
that at times I could barely move
them. I begged her to walk short distances or have her family members

3

12

stretch them when I wasn’t there. But
I don’t think she ever did.
I never saw much change in Thelma’s muscles, but I did start to develop
a friendship with her and her family.
They would always bring me a drink
and some crackers—maybe sticky rice
if Thelma’s sister-in-law Yeng had
been in a cooking mood. Sometimes
Thelma would want to talk; other
times she would just sit and watch
her soap operas.
Toward the end of the year, as
the days grew even hotter, I would
find Thelma sitting in a rocking chair
outside in the shade, wiping her brow.
“So hot!” she would lament to me
as I manipulated her sweaty hand.
Sometimes we’d sit in companionable
silence; other times she would talk
about her travels or the places she
wanted to visit.
I had often wondered how Thelma
could stand such complacency—sitting
in that chair for hours on end while
life passed her by. But as I spent more
time with her, I began to almost envy
her tranquil life. Sitting under the
palm trees brought her such
peace, and I found it pleasant
to be with her, watching
her nieces and nephews play in the yard
or the old women
on the porches
fan themselves as
the relentless sun
blazed down.

1

Adventist
Volunteer Service

1

2
3

4
5

Rainey grew to love sitting with Thelma,
back center, surrounded by her nieces and
nephews.
Rainey met this little girl while visiting a
fishing village.
A common sight in the Philippines—
women washing clothes while their
children play in the river.
The village children loved to attend
special events hosted by the volunteers.
The beginning of an eight-hour trek out
of the mountains with a medical mission
group.

I liked this peace, and I liked Thelma and her family. I didn’t want to
leave them, but soon the end of April
arrived and it was time to go. “You will
not leave,” commanded Thelma, a few
mornings before my departure to the
United States. “You will
stay here.” But of
course I had to
leave.
I left the
family and
the rice cakes
and the palm
trees and the
old rocking
chair that
held the
precious
woman who
had become
my friend.
It’s amazing how a
few months in

facilitates volunteer missionary
service of church members around
the world. Volunteers ages
18 to 80 may serve as
pastors, teachers, medical
professionals, computer
technicians, orphanage
workers, farmers, and
more. To learn more,
please visit www.
AdventistVolunteers.org.

another country can change
the way you think. I
had been searching for
peace and purpose in large
areas and big plans, and here I had
found what I needed in a little yard
in the Philippines. I had gone there
thinking I was going to make a big
difference, when really the people
there were the ones who made a difference in me.
Thelma and her family had blessed my life and given me peace, and
I believe that the few months we
shared together were gifts from
God, given to each of us in
our time of need.

Rainey Davis is studying occupational therapy at Loma Linda University
in California, a career choice confirmed by
the joy she experienced helping Thelma. She
volunteered in the Philippines as a medical clinic
assistant for In His Service Amianan.

5

4

13

AN UNNAMED COUNTRY

Lessons
From a

Prostitute
I really shouldn’t have judged her because
I didn’t know her story, but from her
appearance it was all too easy for me to
conclude that she was a prostitute.

H

er short skirt and tight-fitting
top, accented by her flashy
red lipstick and darkly lined
eyes, made her stand out
from the rest of the modestly dressed
women in church. I had only been in
the mission field a few weeks, but I
had observed that there was only one
class of women who dressed this way.
Who would have known that she had
something to teach me!
My husband, Greg, and our two
sons, Tyler and Ryan, had recently
arrived in Southeast Asia. We had
devoted our lives to soul winning and
were excited that God had called us to
be missionaries. What better place to
get experience in soul winning than
the mission field!
As I sat in my pew relishing in the
fact that I was living the life most
others only dream about, I had no
idea that God was about to teach me
my first mission-field lesson and that
my teacher would be that high-heeled,
scantily clad woman.
It was communion Sabbath. I was
curious to see how it was done in this
country, especially the footwashing
part. Here in Asia, many things associated with feet are taboo, and I was
anxious to see how the members
reacted to it. Did they wash feet like
we do in the West? Or would they pour

14

water over the feet without touching
them? Would everyone participate? Or
would this activity weed out all but
the most devoted members?
At the right time, we filed out of
the sanctuary for the footwashing. I
surveyed the crowd outside. Whose
feet should I wash? Should I choose
the grandma who greeted everyone
warmly with her ear-to-ear smile?
Should I choose my seamstress friend
who was becoming more like a sister
to me than just a friend? What about
the pastor’s wife whose oldest daughter was just a newborn, only a few
months younger than my baby? As I
stood contemplating my options, I felt
a timid tap on my shoulder. I turned
around, and to my utter surprise, there
stood the “prostitute.” Out of the whole
crowd, she had chosen me.
Wonderful! I thought. Here’s a great
opportunity to show everyone here what
it means to humble one’s heart and
serve the “least of these.”
In good new-missionary style, I
insisted that I wash her feet first. After
all, I figured, she needed me to be an
example for her. I knelt down on the
concrete floor, carefully laid the towel
out on my lap, folded her fake-fingernailed hands in mine, and prayed that
God would bless her with His love and
peace and that she would find His

presence so satisfying that she would
leave the loveless lifestyle I assumed
she was living. Then I washed her feet.
I carefully scooped the water in my
cupped hands and let the water trickle
over her ankles and down her feet.
Then I tenderly lifted one foot and
then the other, scooping and drizzling
the water with my free hand, letting
it wash away any dust that may have
collected as she walked to church. As
I dried her feet, I was extra careful to
gently dry between her toes and avoid
the ticklish spots as best as I could.
Satisfied that her feet were clean
enough, I took the basin, refilled it
with fresh water, and sat down.
What happened next humbled me
in a way I have never experienced before. My “prostitute” friend knelt down
in front of me on the concrete floor,
prayed a prayer for me that I didn’t
understand, and then proceeded to
scrub my feet. She used her thumbnail
to clean dirt from around and under
my toenails and rubbed her fingers
between my toes to get the dirt out,
giving them a mini massage at the
same time. She scrubbed the calluses
on my heels with her fingernails until
they were soft and then scratched
away the dead skin I often miss around
my ankles. She massaged my feet
and calves and stretched my ankle

I sat in my chair,
completely humbled.
Before me sat
someone whom
I’d considered an
undeserving “Mary
Magdalene,” yet
it was she who
had shown true
humility.
muscles. Then she dried my feet. Not
with light strokes, but with a firmness
that was refreshing and energizing.
I sat in my chair, completely humbled. Before me sat someone whom
I’d considered an undeserving “Mary
Magdalene,” yet it was she who had
shown true humility.
I wish I could say that we developed a wonderful friendship and that
I mentored her into a leader for the
church. But that didn’t happen. Before I
had enough language skills to carry on
a conversation, she stopped coming to
church. I often wonder what happened
to her. And I wish I knew her story. But
what I do know is that God used her
in a big way to humble a missionary

who needed
to be humbled
before He could use
me. It was a hard lesson for
me to realize that I needed to learn
before I could teach. It’s all too easy
to make assumptions and draw wrong
conclusions that actually hinder us
from truly ministering to others.
Now, more than ten years later,
I’m still learning. In fact, I’ve learned
more than I’ve ever taught. But I’m
better for it, and so are the people I
came to minister to!

Amy and her husband, Greg, live in Thailand
with their three children. Seasoned missionaries
to Southeast Asia, they currently serve at
the Global Mission Center for East Asian
Religions, where they focus on providing
resources and equipping the church
in contextual and wholistic ministry
among Buddhists, Taoists, Confucians, and
Shintoists. Much of this material is available
online at www.AdventistMission.org.

About our cover photo…

15

VIETNAM

CUBA

“Please,
tell me about

PORTUGAL

ARGENTINA

BULGARIA
TANZANIA
NAMIBIA

16

CAMEROON

â&#x20AC;?
Jesus.

CAMBODIA

You can help right away. Every
dollar given to Global Mission
goes to the front lines of
mission, reaching people who
are still waiting to know Jesus.
For more information, please
see the back cover.
THAILAND

NEPAL

PERU

CANADA

17

GLOBAL NEIGHBORHOOD

Mom’s
Egyptian Kitchen
Hilda, Heba, and Nada are three sisters who love to cook the recipes
they learned in their mother’s kitchen in Egypt. Later, they moved
with their parents, Nathan and Saadiya Malaka, to Lebanon and
Sudan as a missionary family. They’re pleased to honor their mother’s memory by sharing her favorite recipes. This Egyptian koshari is a
one-dish meal, assembled by layering ingredients on each plate.

Above: (from left) Nada Malaka, Heba Antwan, Saadiya Malaka,
and Hilda Madanat. The three sisters and their families
live in Silver Spring, Maryland, in the United States. Top
left: A plate of koshari. Top right: Delicious Egyptian
goulash. Right: Ready to assemble your own koshari.
Photos by Nada Malaka.

19

THAILAND

Hand-painted umbrellas.

Umbrella frames wait for the next step at the factory.

Thailand

Home of beauty
and culture

Artisans skillfully paint each design by hand.

A girl from the Lisu tribe.

20

Orchids thrive in Thailandâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s
humid climate.

Serenity in a temple garden.

Colorful handmade bags.

A brother and sister in a country home.

Perfumed water at a Buddhist temple.

A woman from the Akha tribe.
A baby playing in a stream.

A mother and baby from the â&#x20AC;&#x153;Long Neckâ&#x20AC;? Karen tribe.
Worshippers pray in an underground temple in the Chiang Dao cave.

21

DENMARK

Curb Appeal
T

here’s no doubt that the Happy
Hand secondhand store has
curb appeal. But beautiful décor and high-quality merchandise aren’t the only draw for shoppers
on this busy street in Copenhagen.
Customers say they’re attracted to the
shop’s peaceful, spiritual atmosphere
and its caring workers.

Opened in 2012, Happy Hand was
the brainchild of a group of Adventist
lay members in Copenhagen who
wanted to do more to help the needy
in their city. Working closely with the
Danish Union and local Adventist
churches, they created an economically independent Life Hope Center, or
center of influence, that enables them

The shop’s downtown location brings in a large clientele.

The Adventist-run nonprofit store is located in the heart of Denmark’s capital city.

Enjoying an in-store fashion show.

In the middle of the shop is a café area where people can relax, chat with the personnel, or read
some of the books and magazines on hand.

22

to minister to people’s needs and fund
a variety of mission projects in their
neighborhood and around the world.
“We called the shop Happy Hand,”
says Anne-May Müller, “because we
want to lend a hand to those in need
around us. We want to pass on the
physical and spiritual gifts we’ve received from God and share hope and
happiness.”
Happy Hand is decorated with
recycled furniture to create a warm,
charming atmosphere. When customers enter the shop, they’re invited to
sit down to rest, enjoy refreshments,
listen to inspiring music, and connect
with friendly Christians. Refreshments
are served, such as hot teas, cold
drinks, fruit, and cookies.

Concert at Happy Hand
Two of Anne-May’s children attending Happy Hand’s
opening ceremony.

them to visit with a pastor.
Happy Hand is so much more than
a classy secondhand shop. It provides
many services and activities for the
community such as:
Free concerts and tutoring for
schoolchildren;
“We sit and talk with people and
even pray with them,” says Müller.
“We had no idea when we started this
project that people would be so willing to discuss spiritual matters—even
in secular, postmodern Copenhagen.
In the back of the shop stands a
small table with a box on it. Each day
people slip prayer requests into the
box, knowing the staff will pray for
them later. There is also a place for

Warm clothing and food for the
homeless;
Seminars on topics such as marriage,
parenting, creation, and health;
Bible study groups, prayer groups,
and pastoral counseling;
Free Bibles and literature;
Workshops on topics such as bullying,
self-worth, depression, and anxiety.

Volunteers ready to hit the streets and
shelters with warm clothes and fresh food.

Thursday is my
happy day!

Müller became involved with Happy Hand about two years ago when
the shop’s leader asked if she could
volunteer. She committed to working Thursday afternoons for three
months. “I’m still here,” says Müller,
“because Thursday is my happy day!
This ministry is so meaningful to me.
I’ve connected with many good people
and made a lot of friends. It’s been a
wonderful experience.”

Our two-way window

Every day hundreds of people
peer through Happy Hand’s front
window—a window that Müller sees
23

Anne-May teaching an evening seminar on better relationships and marriages.

Volunteers making food bags for the homeless.

Guests listen to a seminar by an astronomer about the existence of God.

A healthy
meal is often
served after the
seminars.

24

Mission to the Cities

is the church’s initiative to
reach out to the world’s largest
cities. A vital part of that initiative is
establishing Life Hope Centers, wholistic
ministry centers that put Christ’s method of
ministry into practice. Your Global Mission
donations help support Life Hope Centers.
To learn more about their ministry or to
support their work, please visit
www.MissiontotheCities.org.

Berit Elkjær, the entrepreneur behind the
success of Happy Hand.

as the perfect metaphor for their mission. “The community looks in and
sees a caring, happy church at work,”
she says. “And we can look into the
community to see what issues people
are struggling with and how we can
help them.”
Customers often tell Müller that
they feel at peace in the store. “We
want customers to use the shop as a
place to take a break from life’s stress,”
says Müller. “They come in and talk.
They get a hug and a hot drink, and
they’re able to face the world again.”
Happy Hand continually provides
opportunities for pastors and church

members in Copenhagen to
develop and nurture relationships
with people in their community. If
your church is considering a similar
ministry, Müller encourages you to
take the leap. “Dare to ask God to show
you how to minister to people in a
meaningful way,” she says. “He has a
heart for city people, and He’ll show
you how to reach them with His love.”
Copenhagen is home to some one
million people representing a wide
variety of cultural, ethnic, and socioeconomic levels. It faces the same
challenges to mission as many cities,
such as secularism, materialism, and
atheism. But through the ministry of
Happy Hand, the church in Denmark is
being connected to hundreds of people who long for a relationship
with God and authentic
people who love them.
Please pray for
Happy Hand and for
all our Life Hope Centers around the world
as they bring the joy
of Jesus to the
millions in
our cities.

Mission 360° TV hosts
guests, such as AnneMay Müller, from all over
the world. Watch it on
Hope Channel in North
America or see it now
at www.Youtube.com/
AdventistMission.

Laurie Falvo
Anne-May Müller is a pastor and the director of family
ministries for the Danish Union. She is also a volunteer
and a pastor for the Happy Hand project. She is married to
Thomas, and they are blessed with four lively boys. AnneMay enjoys running in the forest for recreation.

Office of Adventist
Mission

25

INDIA

Brave

Hearts

Nanibala Biswas and
Georgia Ann Burrus
Georgia Burrus Burgess

W

hen Georgia Ann
Burrus was baptized at age 16
against the will
of her parents, she revealed
a courage and determination
that would characterize the
rest of her life. Born in California in 1866, she attended
Healdsburg College* in the
same state and then taught
at the Bible School in nearby
Oakland. By the time she was
29, an unshakable yearning
filled her heart for the salvation of people overseas.
Georgia sailed to India
in 1895, and when she set
foot on a bustling dock in
Calcutta, she became the first fulltime Adventist missionary in India.
She faced many challenges. In addition to being single at a time when it
was uncommon for women to travel
independently, she was one of the
only Adventists in the country and
the sole financier of her ministry.
Her first task was to learn Bengali.
As she grasped the basics of the
language and immersed herself in
the culture, she developed a longing
for the salvation of Hindu girls, who
numbered in the hundreds of thousands. This was a vast field, but she
started small, opening a girls’ school
with Martha May Taylor in 1896. The
two women fed the poor, clothed the
naked, taught the uneducated, and

26

the Bible once a week.
Soon all but Nanibala lost
interest, but to Georgia’s
delight, she could see the
Word of God taking root
in the young girl’s heart.
One day as Georgia walked past
the Biswas’ home on the way to the
mission school, Nanibala spotted her
and snuck out of the house unobserved. “O Mem Sahib,” she said, “I
want you to come at night and steal
me away and let me live with you so
that I can be a Christian. My father
has forbidden me to study the Bible
with you and told me that if I leave
Hinduism, he will kill me. Even now
my family beats me for believing what
you have taught me.”
The next day when Georgia came
to the Biswas’ home for her weekly
lesson with Nanibala, she found the
doors barred. She knocked several
times, but no one responded. She
decided to come back later, and this

Luther and
Georgia Burgess

told them of a Savior they had never
heard of before.
Georgia loved her students deeply,
and they loved her in return. They began urging her to visit their homes to
meet their parents. One day Georgia
visited the Biswas family. In those
days the homes in India were like
small compounds in which extended
families lived together, the men and
women occupying separate quarters.
In the women’s quarter, Georgia met
a beautiful 11-year-old girl named
Nanibala. Georgia was surprised to
learn that Nanibala was already a
widow. An immediate bond developed
between them.
Georgia began to visit the Biswas
women, teaching them English from

The Biswas family; Nanibala
second from right

time she found the door unlocked. She
slipped in and greeted Nanibala. They
studied the Bible like old times, only
now the other women glared at them
coldly. After praying with Nanibala,
Georgia left to return to her teaching.
When Nanibala’s father returned
from work, he was informed about
the Bible study. Nanibala was beaten
badly by her father and other members
of her family. When she could stand
the abuse no longer, she threw off all
custom and ran out into the street.
Providentially, Georgia was returning
from a day of teaching at just that
moment. She gathered the girl in
her arms and took her to the home of
Martha Taylor. Then she hurried back
to the mission school to talk with the
other missionaries about what they
should do.
When Georgia approached the
school, she saw an angry mob of men,
yelling for Nanibala to be returned
to her parents at once. It was only
through the intercession of Georgia’s language teacher, a high-ranking
Brahman, that the men were pacified.
He explained that Nanibala had chosen to become a Christian, and since
she was of age, she could legally leave
home.

When he was finished, Nanibala’s
father stepped forward. Changing his
tack, he admitted that his family had
abused the girl and that they were
sorry. If she would just return home,
he urged, they would apologize and
return her the next day to the school
where she would be free to become
a Christian.
When Georgia went to Martha Taylor’s home and explained the plan to
Nanibala, she agreed to return home.
But the next day, Mr. Biswas did not
return his daughter to the mission as
promised. Nor the next. Georgia went
to the Biswas’ home, only to find the
doors barred again.
The Seventh-day Adventist missionaries in Calcutta held a prayer vigil
for Nanibala that Friday evening. In the
wee hours of Sunday morning, Georgia
heard a loud rapping on her door. She
opened it to see Nanibala trembling
with fear. The missionary drew her
inside, bolting the door behind her.
The whole story tumbled out. After Nanibala had returned home, her
father locked her in a room, swearing
he’d murder her if she tried to escape.
Nanibala pleaded with God not only
to escape but for the opportunity to
serve her newfound Savior.

In those days, homes in India were
built on all four sides of an open court,
forming a complete enclosure. All
through the week, workmen had been
making repairs on the Biswas’ house.
At quitting time on Friday evening,
they had left a ladder lying in the
court. On Saturday when she arose
from her prayers, Nanibala looked out
her window and spotted the ladder.
At midnight when everyone was
sleeping, Nanibala made her getaway.
With the assistance of a sympathetic aunt, she escaped her room and
hoisted the heavy ladder against the
side of the house. Nimbly climbing
it, she pulled herself onto the roof,
scurried across it, and leapt to the
street below.
In the coming weeks, the Biswas
family made several attempts to retrieve Nanibala from the mission. Her
mother and grandmother came and
with tears begged her to return. A
rich woman hired by the Biswas tried
to entice Nanibala with a promise of
unimaginable comforts. Her father
stationed men at the mission gates
to grab her when she walked by. But
all to no avail. Nanibala was baptized
in 1895, the first Hindu to become
an Adventist. She had defied family,
upbringing, culture, and religion for
Jesus.
In 1901 Nanibala came to the
United States to study medicine, telling her amazing story to believers
across the nation. She quickly became
a symbol of the power of the Adventist
message to overcome all barriers and
a testament that with God’s grace the
world can be reached with the gospel.
Meanwhile, Georgia Burrus went on to
serve as a missionary in India for nearly 40 years. These two women were
firsts in a country that now has more
than one million Adventists, more than
any other nation in the world.
* Currently Pacific Union College.

Benjamin Baker is the assistant
archivist at the Seventh-day Adventist
Church world headquarters.

27

ZAMBIA

1

2

S

uddenly I felt like crying. We
were on our way to church,
listening to a CD of George
Beverly Shea singing “How
Great Thou Art.” My husband, Fred,
joined in, adding his bass voice to
one of my favorite songs. That voice
took me back 65 years to our college
days when he sang in a double male
quartet.
It had taken some time to find
the right guy. Back in high school, I
remember looking out the window
of my dorm room, watching a missionary family walk along the path.
The mother had long, graying hair
and was wearing a faded, outdated
dress. Several little ones were running
beside her. All of them had a yellowish skin color, the result of taking a
malarial drug. If that’s what you look
like when you’ve been a missionary, I
said to myself, I’m not interested. Never!
But now, here I was in college.
I’d been checking out all the eligible
young fellows on campus, but no one

28

Adventures
of a Reluctant
Missionary
quite caught my eye. My best
friend, Rena, the pianist for the
double male quartet, was eager
to introduce me to Fred Thomas.
He was one of the basses, but
since he was from a missionary
family in Kenya, I was hesitant.
I’d heard that he planned to
return to the mission field upon
graduation.
Eventually, Rena won out.
Under the flowering goldenrod
arbor in front of the girls’ dorm,
she introduced me to Fred. He brought
along a slab of Cadbury’s chocolate
to make a good impression. And that
was the beginning of the rest of my
life! It wasn’t long before I changed
my mind about being a missionary.
Now I can look back and see how God
guided and protected us through the
65 years we’ve been together.
Just six weeks after we were married, we arrived in Zambia for our first
mission appointment. The only feasible way to get to the mission station
in this remote and primitive area was
by a single engine, five-seat airplane,
called a Rapide. The sides were made
of canvas, but we made it safely, much
to my relief. Our few possessions were
to come much later by barge up the
Zambezi River.
Upon arrival we rode on the flatbed of an old army truck through the
forest on sandy tracks. The ink was
barely dry on my new degree in home
economics, so you can only imagine
what I was thinking as we were ushered into the thatch-roofed house we

were to share with another family. We
had one small room for ourselves, plus
an attached closed-in porch, just large
enough for a bed. The kitchen and
washroom, both painted dark green,
and the outhouse were to be shared.
Drinking and wash water for the
house, brought up from the river some
distance away in buckets, was pumped
up into a raised tank in the back yard.
To my dismay, I learned that the
task of carrying water to the house was
given to the lepers from a nearby colony.
The nearest grocery store was 400
miles down the Zambezi River to the
town of Livingstone. The only fresh
produce we had was whatever we
could grow in a small garden.
The mission operated a small
elementary school, a church, and a
dispensary run by a brave Norwegian
nurse. She was the only medical help
available for anyone within a 300-mile
radius. Most of the local inhabitants
were spirit worshippers, so we would
often be lulled to sleep by the sound
of drums beating in the distance.
After two years on the mission, Fred
had an opportunity to use the skills he
learned in carpentry and construction
as he worked his way through college.
He was asked to start construction of a
hospital and housing for doctors. Since
it was to be built on a piece of uninhabited land, some distance from the
mission, we moved to the construction
site and lived in a mud hut. Nine-foot
mamba snakes were frequent visitors.
By now we had one baby, little Frederick, so while Fred was supervising the

God calls each of us
to serve where we are
planted. The collective
number of years of mission
service by various members
of the Thomas family
amount to more
than 500.

4

5

3

making of bricks and the
construction of the buildings, I would
watch our son as he played in the sand
under a shade tree in front of our hut.
I also distributed simple medicines to
the local women and children who
came around for help.
As a result of our organizing a
Sabbath School and holding a church
service under the shade of a large tree,
a number of individuals showed an
interest in studying the Bible. They
were baptized a few months later in
a crocodile-infested river.
Once some of the buildings were
completed and a doctor had been
appointed, we were relocated to Kenya. Situated on a beautiful mission
compound, the living conditions were
much easier. Water was no problem
because it rained every afternoon for

1

Jean and Fred Thomas at home in Burleson,
Texas. Jean painted the landscape of
Table Mountain in South Africa.

2

Jean and Fred, right, with other
missionaries in Zambia.

3

The Thomas’ belongings arrived by barge.

4

Jean with little Fred.

5

The Thomas family in Tanzania: back to
front: Fred, Jean, John, Fred, Dave, and Peter.

about an hour. The lawns around the
house were soft and green, and the
vegetable garden was very productive.
By now we had four active little
boys. The three older children were in
need of homeschooling, but they were
much more interested in riding bikes
and pushing their baby brother around
in a buggy. Since our house was built
on steep ground, the boys had to see
for themselves how the buggy springs
worked on a slope! Every Sabbath we
attended a different church, wherever
Fred had been invited to preach. Our
family was quite a curiosity to the
local people.
Our next move took us to Tanzania. Now we felt it would be best for
the three older boys, Frederick, Dave
and John, to attend the boarding
school in Nairobi, Kenya. This was a
very difficult decision for me. We saw
them only once every three months,
and, oh, how much they grew during
that time!
Another move took us to Zimbabwe, and once again the boys had to
go away to boarding school. This time
they would travel some 2,500 miles
distance by train. The first time we
did this was on a Sabbath morning,
the only day of the week the train left
from Bulawayo, where we lived, for
Cape Town, South Africa.
After hugging them goodbye, we
headed to church with heavy hearts.
The person offering the prayer in
church asked God to protect and bless
the children who had just left for
boarding school. I promptly burst out
crying—I couldn’t help it! Sacrificing

our children—it was becoming unbearable.
When it was time to send Peter,
our youngest son, away to school, it
was more than I could handle. Being
missionaries in remote, undeveloped
places was not our most difficult experience. The hardest thing was being separated from our children. It
was because of my aching heart that
we immigrated to the United States,
where our children could live at home
and commute to school every day.
Now here we are, 65 years later,
having served in many different areas
of Africa, the United States, and in the
Middle East. We praise God for His
goodness and protection. The gospel
is spreading across the African continent in an amazing way. Once the
recipient of missionaries, Africa now
sends missionaries to other parts of
the world.
Today I am thankful to God for
bringing the son of British missionaries into my life. Frederick Herbert
and Florence Thomas left the shores
of England in 1924 and served in Africa for 40 years. Their son Frederick
George changed my perspective of
mission forever. I wouldn’t trade our
adventurous life for anything!
Now retired, Jean and Fred’s neighborhood
is their current mission field. They deliver
Meals on Wheels to housebound residents, organize birthday celebrations for
the neighbors on their street, and tend a
flourishing flower garden. Birds from miles
around visit their birdfeeders daily.

29

BELIZE

The

Throwaway

I

t’s not time for this baby to be born,
thought the mother as she hurried to the hospital to deliver her
tenth child. Only five months into
this pregnancy, she was surprised to
feel the familiar labor pains. When
the baby was delivered, the doctor
said, “Ma’am, you have nine children
waiting for you at home. You did not
deliver a baby—you had an undeveloped fetus that didn’t survive.” The
doctor put the baby in a cloth and
threw it in the garbage.
But the mother wasn’t convinced.
Once the nurses left, she looked into
the garbage and saw the cloth moving.
When she lifted it, there was her baby,
still breathing.
Taking a washcloth, she wrapped
up her baby, put it in her pocket,
and went home. “Where’s the baby?”
her children asked. The mother unwrapped the cloth and there was the
tiniest infant they had ever seen.
Before long, the police came. She
had stolen hospital property, they
informed her—the baby! “If you don’t
return it” they said, “we’ll take you to
court.”
“This is my child!” the mother
cried, refusing to give them her baby.
“If the fetus dies under your care,”
they responded, “you will go to jail for
murder.” Refusing to be intimidated
she responded, “Then I will have to
do my jail time.”

30

A directive
was then sent
to all government
clinics in the area,
forbidding them to
accept the baby or
mother for treatment.
But God did not forget
this desperate mother or
her premature infant. As she
prayed, God impressed her with
what to do.
The baby was so tiny that his little
mouth wasn’t large enough to nurse,
so the mother put some of her milk
into a doll’s bottle to feed him. Because no incubator was available, she
carefully placed him in the sun each
day. Over time, the baby strengthened
and grew.
One day, however, the baby became very ill, and the mother had to
bring him back to the hospital, where
she met the same doctor and nurses.
They were perplexed because the
child was still alive. Getting on her
knees, she pleaded with the doctor,
begging him to help her baby.
The baby desperately needed a
blood transfusion, but the hospital
had only one unit of blood available,
and it had not yet been screened for
disease. The mother asked that they
give it to him anyway, or he would
die. She prayed as she watched them
transfuse the unscreened blood into

Jeremy Arnold

her infant. The doctor assured her that
he would not survive past midnight.
But at 6 a.m. the next morning, the
baby was still alive.
By this time, the doctor was
amazed. He had never seen anything like this before. Now, he had
another idea: “Let’s send him to
a hospital in Jamaica to see
how long he can survive.
But the mother refused.
“My child is not a guinea
pig or a lab rat!”
The police officers were called in
order to ensure
that this “crazy”
woman wouldn’t
steal the baby
again. Determined
to take him home,

“This is my child!”
the mother cried,
refusing to
give them
her baby.

the woman came up with a plan—
she would go to another ward of the
hospital, create a big commotion, and
when the officers were distracted, she
would grab her baby and run. The plan
worked, and she hurried home. Not
far behind, however, were the police
officers. Once again they threatened
her with stealing hospital property,
but she stood her ground.
A year later, the baby was still
alive. But, once more he became ill
and there was no choice but to return
to the hospital, where once again the
mother met the same doctor and staff.
Looking at the child, the doctor
made dire predictions: “This baby will
be blind and crippled by the age of 2.
He will be mentally disabled
and will die at
the age

of 5.” The mother took her treasure
home and prayed.
The baby kept growing and became stronger each day. When he
was 6 years old, he walked into a
Seventh-day Adventist primary school,
not with a cane, as the doctor predicted, because he wasn’t blind. Not in a
wheelchair, as the doctor had warned,
because he could walk. He walked in
on two strong legs and did well in
every subject.
That baby, rescued from a garbage
can, is me. Amazingly, however, in
spite of my miraculous delivery, Satan
almost won my soul.
I faced many discouragements
and temptations, growing up in the
south side of Belize City. My father
did not support us, and we were very
poor. Often we went to school hungry
because we hadn’t eaten for days. I
became involved in some bad things.
But the Lord led me back. By His
grace, I have been able to lead many
people to Christ through my evangelistic ministry.
My mother, whom I love
very much, always reminds me,
“Never forget that you were a
throwaway baby. God preserved
you, and you are here to bring
Him glory.

Jeremy Arnold with Gina
Wahlen. Jeremy Arnold recently
graduated from Belize Adventist Junior
College and would like to pursue a
degree in theology. Gina Wahlen works in
the Office of Adventist Mission as the editor
of the Mission magazines.

Christ’s method
in the world’s great cities
Mingling
Showing sympathy
Ministering
to needs
Winning confidence
Bidding people
to follow
Jesus

Every dollar given to Global Mission goes
directly to the front lines of mission,
including big cities, reaching people who
are still waiting to know Jesus.
THREE WAYS TO GIVE:
• Mail to Global Mission:
12501 Old Columbia Pike
Silver Spring, MD 20904
• Secure online: Giving.AdventistMission.org
• Call 800-648-5824